Beyond Birthday ran away
by Permit Winter
Summary: 'I've got a quest for you.' The old man said. The fire in his eyes was burning and turning him into ashes and dust. 'I've got a quest for a warrior like you.' And Beyond walked away. (One-shot.)


_The blazing, dazing, dazzling heat was unbearable and it hurt his eyes and it hurt his heart. Why was his home burning like a thousand sizzling suns?_

He ran. He ran and ran and when he was too tired to take another step, he walked. He walked and walked and when he was too tired to take another step, he looked back, looked behind him, looked at the black and grey smoke, saw how his house had turned into ashes and dust, and he walked away. He ran away.

Beyond Birthday ran away.

And one day, an eight year old boy met an eighty year old man. The boy had black eyes and red eyes. The man had grey hair and burning eyes. They chatted and chattered and then they had a serious talk.

''I've got a quest for you.'' The old man said. The fire in his eyes was burning and turning him into ashes and dust. ''I've got a quest for a warrior like you.''

''What do I have to do?'' Beyond asked. His red eyes were glowing but couldn't quite determine the other man's identity, for the old man was wearing black glasses and a fake beard and a fake moustache and, Beyond suspected, a fake nose.

The old man sighed. He cleared his throat and faked a cough and he started to talk: ''Long, long ago, I found a city that had been lost before. It is now lost again, for I can't find it no longer. The city belongs to the dead, and the dead live without fear and without feel. In the time I spent there, the dead were alive, but now the alive are dead, and it is your task to find the lost city of Caradoc.''

Beyond didn't understand. Why would he want to find Caradoc? Why would he need to? What was wrong with lost things being lost and why wouldn't anybody allow them to stay lost? ''Some things don't want to be found.'' He said.

''That is true,'' The old man said. ''But I know for certain that Caradoc wants to be found because it has been calling me during the day and the night now. I hear a voice that says: please, find me, please, bring me peace.'' The old man looked at the sky while he said that, and his eyes looked so tired. As if he hadn't slept for days and nights and perhaps even months. Would that be possible? Beyond wondered.

And Beyond walked away.

Beyond Birthday ran away.

After all: why would he listen to a clearly crazy old man?

The next day, the boy met a ninety year old man. He wore a fake beard and a fake moustache and, definitely, a fake nose. He looked very much like the other old man Beyond had met the other day, but this man's forehead had more wrinkles, so Beyond doubted they were the same. (Of course, it could be make up, too.)

''I've got a quest for you.'' The old man said. And Beyond, being startled and surprised, ran away. Beyond Birthday had been running since his home went up in flames. He had been running away _from_ home, but he hadn't been running _to_ anything, anywhere. He had nowhere to go.

And then he met the small boy with the small name and the big brains. They looked very much alike: Beyond had black hair, the other boy had black hair. Beyond was small and thin, the other boy was small and thin. Beyond was pale, the other boy was pale. It was as if looking into a mirror, but seeing a slightly distorted version of himself, with another name, and with eyes as dark as black pools of water.

''L.'' The other boy said.

L chatted and chattered and talked with Beyond like they were friends already, and Beyond _knew_ he had to do something about L's friendliness. It wasn't fair. _He _had no home while _L_ went to his every evening. _His _parents had committed suicide while _L's _parents were alive and well. _He _was unhappy while _L _was happy. And Beyond wanted happiness, too. But most of all: Beyond wanted _L._

And thus, one winter night, 31 October 1986, Beyond Birthday, dressed as Death, set L's house on fire with everyone in it.

The police searched everywhere but could never find the culprit. The clues they'd got were: one Halloween costume, stolen from the shop thirty miles out of town, one lighter with zero fingerprints and two screaming children, both with black hair, both with dark eyes. probably brothers. They were sent, the two of them, to the orphanage that would soon belong to a great inventor.

A great inventor who had a fairly odd fondness for fake beards, fake moustaches, fake nose and make up that made one look older than one was.


End file.
